


when i was a kid i used to buy and sell gravity

by katana_fleet



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katana_fleet/pseuds/katana_fleet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woman bounced the baby and her crazy blonde curls bounced with her. “My vortex manipulator’s gone wrong again.” She then pushed past the redhead, muttering “I’m going to kill that man—” a squeak from the baby “—yes, your father, Amelie, it’s long overdue—” high-pitched babbling “—not that I haven’t tried. He said he fixed this, and the TARDIS agreed. I’m going to have to take it to Torchwood—” a scared little squawk “—no, I won’t let Captain Jacky get you, honey. It’s three in the morning, good gracious; no wonder there’s no one about.” </p><p>“My parents don’t allow strange people in the house,” Amy called after her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when i was a kid i used to buy and sell gravity

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'preacher' by onerepublic. nothing is mine, etc. i wrote this literally ages ago -- if i remember right, this is the first fanfic i ever started. it was also in first person for a year or so. it has since changed because *cringe* anyway *shoves at your beautiful faces and runs*

Amelia Pond heard a loud knock on the door at three in the morning. Her spirits rose unbidden and she quickly shoved them back down with a vicious thought: he was gone. She hadn’t seen him in seven years. Seven long years—and four psychiatrists. When he came back, she would never forgive him.

Someone knocked again, three more times, more urgently now. Even though it couldn’t be _him_ —he’d probably have already broken inside—she knew that, even though she’d only seen him twice—she ran downstairs, pulling on her robe as she yanked the door open.

A woman stood at the door. She looked nearly old enough to be Amy’s mother, and she balanced a pouting baby with wild ginger hair on her hip. Her annoyed and concerned face relaxed into a huge smile when she saw her. “Amy.”

“Sorry, who are you?” Amy said tersely. Of course it wasn’t him. It was never him. She supposed the postal workers and other who-knows-who that dropped by really didn’t deserve her disappointment when it wasn’t him. They were usually dismissed quickly, however.

The woman bounced the baby and her crazy blonde curls bounced with her. “My vortex manipulator’s gone wrong _again_.” She then pushed past the redhead, muttering “I’m going to kill that man—” a squeak from the baby “—yes, your father, Amelie, it’s long overdue—” high-pitched babbling “—not that I haven’t tried. He said he fixed this, and the TARDIS agreed. I’m going to have to take it to Torchwood—” a scared little squawk “—no, I won’t let Captain Jacky get you, honey. It’s three in the morning, good gracious; no wonder there’s no one about.”

“My parents don’t allow strange people in the house,” Amy called after her.

“And yet you’re the only one who cared about or heard the loud knocking at three in the morning,” she said as she sat down at the table, baby in her lap. The same place he sat at. “Have you seen the Doctor lately?”

Amy sat down across from her slowly. “The Doctor?”

“Yes, the Doctor. Bow-tie obsession, acts and looks like he’s fifteen, over-fond of—” She looked closer at Amy’s face. “Oh, I’m very early. You’re fourteen, right?” Amy and the woman nodded in unison. “Too early.” The woman rubbed at her green-grey eyes and muttered something—not English, more musical and otherworldly—under her breath. Amelie chirped a little “bah.” Amy and the woman smiled at the baby.

The Doctor. She mentioned the Doctor. How many people in the world could be literally called ‘the Doctor’? “Do you know him?”

She laughed huskily. “The Doctor. Oh, do I know that man. I married him.”

“You married him?” Amy screeched, remembering at the last second to keep her voice down. Mum and Dad wouldn’t be happy with her conversing with a strange woman in the kitchen.

That young 20-year-old looking Doctor marrying this woman who looks old enough to be her mum? Weird. And not possible. Probably. Who knows?

She nodded briskly. “And Amelie’s ours. The others aren’t mine, though. Oh, spoilers.”

Amy stared at the curly-haired woman. Uncalled-for jealousy rose. “Prove it to me. That you know the Doctor.”

“I’ll tell you about yourself,” she said, looking to Amy as if for permission. Not that she needed permission; she just forced her way into the younger girl’s house without permission, and her age was enough that she could do anything she liked. And besides, she did have _a gun_ strapped to her thigh.

When Amy nodded impatiently, she whispered reverently, “Your name is Amelia Pond. A man in a police box fell down from the sky seven or so years ago. He ate fish custard in this kitchen. Then he left you, promising to come back in five minutes. You’ve been waiting for him, looking for him every day. I do the same, most days, just waiting, waiting for him,” she murmured, taking Amy’s cold hand. The baby giggled as her red curls pressed into her mother’s chest. “He will return for you. He misses his little Amelia Pond. The little girl not scared of anything except that idiotic crack in her wall. He hasn’t seen you for a very long time and he misses you so, so much—”

She glanced at Amy’s furious, tearful, and confused face and stopped, pulling back from her with an expression of pain, so much pain. Amy glanced at her in confusion—why was she so sad over the Doctor not seeing her? She was just little Amelia Pond, no one to her—and her face flickered back into cheerfully bland with a shake of the curls.

“Who are you?” Amy asked eventually. “And why are you here if only to tell me pointless things that I’ve been reliving for the past seven years? _Seven_ years and _four_ psychiatrists, and the Doctor, the git, hasn’t come back. He said five minutes. Five minutes!”

She frowned. “I know. The Doctor is never good at time. Ironic, for a Time Lord. Usually I arrive on time, but this vortex manipulator” she shook the black band on her wrist “is off. Terribly off. He promised it was fixed. I am going to kill him—and succeed, this time.”

“You travel in time? And you’re going to kill him? You said that before. Give him my regards before you kill him.”

Amelie fussed and the woman glanced down at her as she grinned evilly in answer to Amy’s question and demand. “Amy, dear, I’ve got to go, Amelie’s getting bored of Earth. Not enough explosions. You know, honey, Daddy’s going to try to kill me when he finds out I’ve been taking you to all these planets, although I will agree that a couple have been too much. Especially Raxacoricofallapatorius, not that I would _ever_ admit it to the old man. Slitheen are ridiculous, Amy; keep that in mind. Amelie’s never been on boring, peaceful Earth till now; mainly we’ve kept her in the TARDIS—safer for a child of the Doctor and _yours truly_. I should have brought her before, though, see the world of her grandparents,” she mused, cuddling the baby closer and peeking up at Amy.

“What?” Amy asked cautiously. Suddenly, she wondered if this woman was quite… all there. TARDIS and Time Lord and the like. Normal people talk about the telly or friends they haven’t seen in a month, not random insane people who showed up in your backyard seven years ago.

She snapped back into focus, curls bouncing. “I speak baby. You don’t know how handy it is with an infant.”

“No one speaks baby.”

“I speak everything. Well, it’s been wonderful, seeing you, sweetie, although I’m leaving you quite confused.” She leaned down and took Amy’s hand again, green eyes fixed on hers. “The Doctor will come back for you, Amy. So soon. Don’t lose hope.”

“When is he coming?” Amy whispered.

She smiled sadly. “Spoilers, sweetie.” The woman secured Amelie in her arms and stood. “I’m going to try the vortex manipulator again.” She strolled gracefully out of the house, murmuring, “The worst that could possibly happen is ending up before the universes began, Amelie, and your daddy was there, so we’ll be fine. He always protects us, baby. Mostly.” Amy heard the baby giggle and the back door slammed shut. After a moment of dazed silence, Amy ran after her, white robe and red hair flying behind her.

“You can’t just go! You never told me your name!” she called frantically to the woman standing in her back yard, stroking the garden shed.

“I’m River Song. Say hello to the Doctor for me when he comes. And give my love to Rory,” she said, still staring at the stupid shed. She turned back toward Amy, head bent low over her child, pressing a few buttons on her watch. Just before a bright light surrounded her, she looked up at Amelia Pond and breathed, “I’m your daughter.” And she disappeared in the light.

\--

Amy told Mels and Rory about what happened that night the next morning, yawning through her excited outbursts about the Doctor. Rory nodded appreciatively and changed the subject to the lunch of the day.

Mels rolled her eyes as much as ever. She only showed true excitement at the description of the woman, then the vortex manipulator. As she walked away, Amy heard her murmuring something about death and the Doctor and “I need a _gun_.”

Amy didn’t comment. Perhaps it’s not wise to upset the girl who just stole her first expensive car—a nice expensive blue model—at the bright age of just barely fourteen.

\--

Amy forgot that night when the Doctor reset the universe, just as she forgot the madman himself. When that stranger to town, the woman with huge hair, passed by the reception hall, a memory reasserted itself foremost in her head—a woman with curly blonde hair and a tiny ginger baby, talking about a—

\--

Amy remembered. But somehow she couldn’t remember River Song’s last words before she zapped herself away. She knew that the woman had said something, something important that made her not sleep well for a week, but what was it?

\--

She asked River years later, while they were traveling and learning about the Silence, what exactly she had said. She hadn’t done that night yet and shut Amy up with a grimace, a quickly muttered “spoilers,” and a dash to the nearest toilet.  Amy could tell it would be soon for her, though—throwing up randomly, even with the Silence around, was not normal for Doctor River Song. When the Doctor innocently asked what was wrong with her, she repeated “ _spoilers_ ” with glee.

\--

Demons Run—a good man went to war—and her baby Melody. River was her daughter. How could she have ever forgotten?

\--

River, the Doctor, and two-year-old Amelie showed up at the Williams’ front step in New York. River had finally convinced him to take a long road trip and try _walking_ into Manhattan instead of taking the TARDIS: surprise, it worked.

Amy and Rory would never be able to return to the twenty-first century, but they had their Anthony now; they were fine. They were absolutely fantastic. The Doctor’s companions always were. That was why he chose them, because once he left, they’d be okay.

Amy finally asked River why she had been looking for the Doctor that night so long ago. She smirked evilly at the Doctor. The Doctor blushed and muttered something about “another wedding in New Las Vegas on the moon” and tried to look at anything but Rory and completely failed. Rory murmured to Anthony, who timidly stood and punched his brother-in-law in the arm as per the centurion’s command. As the Doctor groaned in pretend agony and hugged the boy, Amelie laughed her beautiful high-pitched giggle, curling herself into Amy’s arms.


End file.
